The truth about sustainable travel and the cost of getting it right

The hospitality industry has developed a remarkably efficient way of appearing to care about the environment. It involves a small card near the bathroom sink, a mention of “local sourcing” somewhere on the menu, and a website photograph of a solar panel that may or may not be connected to anything. This version of sustainable travel costs the property almost nothing and demands almost nothing of the guest. It has a name: greenwashing. This matters because the stakes are real. According to the World Economic Forum, tourism generates approximately 8% of global carbon emissions when the full supply chain is measured. At the same time, the global ecotourism market is expected to expand significantly, rising from about $337.19 billion in 2026 to roughly $1.125 trillion by 2034. According to research compiled by Booking.com, 85% of travellers say sustainable travel is important or very important to them, with older generations showing a stronger commitment to adopting specific sustainable behaviours than younger travellers. 

What real sustainability actually demands

Genuine sustainable tourism is operationally inconvenient, and that inconvenience is the point. Reef Haven, a boat-access island resort off the coast of Belize, offers a useful case study in what separates commitment from performance. The property is an all-inclusive, but without a buffet. Meals are ordered from a menu, prepared to order, portioned to appetite rather than spectacle. Guests who want more simply order more. The structural waste that defines the traditional all-inclusive format, inclusive of the platefuls scraped into bins, the seafood stations wilting under heat lamps does not exist here. It is a small design decision with a large environmental consequence, and it requires no inconvenience from the guest whatsoever.

The kitchen runs on a tight local supply chain. Lobster, conch, and reef fish come directly from fishermen and vendors in San Pedro and along the surrounding coast. Produce arrives by boat from Belizean farmers on fixed weekly schedules. Chicken and staple goods come from Belize’s own agricultural network on the mainland. Staff manage delivery schedules and occupancy projections in tandem, calibrating orders to avoid surplus. Belize’s lobster season operates on defined open and closed periods; when the season closes, the kitchen reimagines its menu around other local ingredients rather than importing alternatives. That kind of constraint is accepted rather than circumvented and is what local sourcing actually looks like in practice.

Off the kitchen, the infrastructure tells the same story. Reef Haven runs a well and a large reverse osmosis plant that converts saltwater into drinking water on-site, a system that was non-functional when the current operations team arrived and had to be restored from scratch, through technical manuals, coordinated repairs, and significant investment. Electricity is managed with inverter-style air conditioners in guest rooms, chosen specifically to reduce energy consumption on an island where power from the northern grid is unstable and fuel for backup generators must be imported at rising cost. Solar power is the logical next step, given the island’s sun exposure and remains on hold because solar installation companies in Belize have a pattern of closing before they can service what they have sold. The property was candid about it and that candor is radical in an industry fluent in evasion.

Cabanas at Reef Haven Belize. Credit: Reef Haven

The cost of doing it right

In Belize City, the Fort George Hotel & Spa operates from a different vantage point as one of the oldest and most storied properties in the country. Built in 1957, the hotel operated for decades as a Radisson beginning in 1990 and hosted a guest list that included presidents, foreign diplomats, and Queen Elizabeth II. The ambition is to become Belize’s premier hotel. Its approach to sustainability is less dramatic than Reef Haven’s and, for that reason, perhaps more instructive.

Edison Trapp, General Manager at Fort George, began working at the property as a teenager during school holidays, sweeping the yard. He was offered a permanent position in 1981 and has remained ever since. He is, in effect, a living institutional memory and under his watch, a set of sustainability practices has accumulated that is not prominently marketed but is unmistakably real. Single-use toiletry bottles have been replaced with refillable bulk dispensers. Water use is monitored daily to catch leaks and abnormal spikes. Corridor lighting in unoccupied wings is turned off when occupancy is low. Quick-flush toilets reduce water waste. Used linens, sheets, and towels are donated to the Red Cross rather than discarded.

The kitchen at Fort George sources whole fish directly from local fishermen who deliver to the property. Fruits and vegetables come from nearby farmers’ markets. The hotel actively avoids canned goods where fresh or local alternatives exist. Progress, here, is measured in honest increments. The hotel is also exploring electric and hybrid vehicles to replace its diesel van fleet. On the social side, Fort George has run an annual breakfast for nurses around Nurses’ Day, a morning feeding program for the city’s homeless with staff, including Chuck himself, distributing coffee and Johnny cakes with cheese. They also offer paid internships for hospitality and trade students empowering young graduates.

The power of quiet accountability

Properties like these can only carry so much of the load. According to Expedia Group research, 56% of travellers say they want to reduce their carbon footprint through more sustainable transport choices, but behavioural research consistently documents what hotel managers already know from their electricity bills: guests abandon their domestic conservation habits on vacation. Air conditioning runs in empty rooms. Lights burn through the night. For example, key-card energy systems already in use at other hotels, and operate by cutting room power when the guest leaves. Reef Haven uses a simple room note asking guests to reuse towels rather than have them laundered daily. Neither approach trusts conscience alone. That is the correct instinct.

According to the Global Ecotourism Network, every dollar spent on authentic ecotourism generates in direct and indirect income for local communities. At Reef Haven, around 80 staff members keep the property running. Most are Belizean; many have relocated from towns and villages across the mainland, with housing provided as part of their compensation. That arrangement allows younger workers to save more of their income, build skills, and advance in a sector that typically exploits this demographic rather than investing in it. Yucatec and Q’eqchi’ Maya, Creole, and other communities are represented across the team. Senior kitchen and management roles draw on regional talent from Mexico and Costa Rica, but the operation’s character is unmistakably Belizean. 

The traveler’s responsibility in a high-impact industry

The hospitality industry has mastered the language of sustainability, but few properties have mastered the discipline. The difference is operational and it shows up in how food is sourced, how energy is managed, how waste is prevented, and how honestly a property confronts its own limitations. Places like Reef Haven and Fort George demonstrate that sustainable tourism is a system of decisions, many of which are more expensive, more complex, and less visible to the guest. In the end, sustainability is not what a hotel claims, it is what it consistently does.